Shipwrecked
by ShanghaiLily
Summary: Summary: Logan, Duncan and Dick are Navy sailors on shore leave for 12 hours in NYC. Dick wants to get laid, Duncan wants a good meal, and Logan? Well...he's determined to experience something *epic* (AU of the classic movie, 'On the Town')


**This fic is an AU of the old Gene Kelly/Frank Sinatra movie 'On the Town' (aka. your grandma's AU).**

 **I wrote it in a few hours and didn't have a beta, so please excuse any typos, crazy mistakes or repetitive language.**

 **Also, I know little about the Navy, so apologies - in advance - to any Navy people who find themselves cringing at the details.**

 **I wrote this for the VM Summer Lovin' fic challenge over on AO3, so if you want to read other writers' fics from that collection, you can find them over there. There's some good stuff :)**

* * *

The ship lurched with a groan as its motor shifted into low gear, a signal it wouldn't be too much longer before they docked.

By now, most of the sailors were up on deck, impatiently watching the slow approach of New York City, glittering in the fading sunlight like a prized gemstone. After being at sea for months, Logan had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't seeing a mirage.

He squeezed past the crowd, muscling his way through for a better look.

His bunkmates - Duncan and Dick - followed closely behind, each grabbing the closest bit of railing they could get their hands on, for a prime view.

"What's the first thing you're going to do when we hit land?" Duncan asked, unable to tear his gaze away from the wonder that lay in front of them.

With only 12 hours of shore leave, Logan hadn't a clue where to start, but he didn't plan on wasting a moment of it.

"A woman," Dick said, cutting off Logan's thoughts. "The first thing I'm gonna do is a woman. You?"

"Pizza. Real pizza with real mozzarella. None of that long-life cheese shit." Duncan's already giant eyes grew impossibly wider. "And authentic Chinese food cooked by actual Chinese people, not some Midwestern dude named Brad."

"A brunette with big tits," Dick's chin dropped, in a definitive nod. "I'd settle for a redhead though."

"You'd settle for any girl who said yes." Duncan laughed and leaned slightly over the railing. "Canolis. I've never tried one."

Dick cocked an eyebrow at Logan, who was still too overwhelmed to speak. "What's on your list, bro?"

"Not sure." Logan narrowed his eyes at the metallic coastline of Manhattan Island and grinned. "But it's going to be something life-changing."

"Go big or go home." Dick clapped him on the shoulder. "I like it."

* * *

The sailors spilled out onto the sidewalk in a disorganized fashion, and for once, the senior officers let it go without comment. They were probably too preoccupied with their own leave to care about much else.

"We ship out at 0800 hours!" The admiral barked at the men's departing backs. "You don't show on time, you're AWOL."

Logan twisted around and gave the man a halfhearted salute. "Aye-aye, sir."

The warning didn't register with Dick, who was gesticulating something filthy to a horrified Duncan.

The admiral grimaced and pointed at the blond. "Echolls, make sure that one wraps it up. We only have a limited amount of penicillin on board."

Dick heard the older man this time, and gasped.

Before he could form a comeback, Logan slipped a finger into the back of his collar and pulled him along. "Settle down, buttercup. You're not going to get us tossed in the brig on our day off."

"What did I do?" Dick squawked, his expression indignant.

Duncan caught Logan's eye and they tackled their friend to the ground, laughing hard as they all fell.

* * *

The setting sun cooled down the sidewalks to a bearable walking temperature. New York had just come off a brutal and endless heat wave. But with the start of September, came the winding down of summer, and the tropical weather had finally begun to abate.

Duncan was on his second slice of pizza by the time they wandered in front of the monolithic facade of the Meat Packing District's trendiest club, 'Neptune'.

Dick looked up from his phone screen and pointed to the front door, which was draped in a fish net. "This is the place. Everybody says it's the shizz."

"Gotta love that classic New York architecture." Logan ran his fingertips along the wrought iron anchor leaning against the wall, and shot Dick an unimpressed look. "We get one day of leave from a warship and this is where you bring us?"

Dick shrugged and placed his hand on the stretch of rope that doubled as a door handle. "I read in 'Time Out Magazine', this is where the hottest chicks hang out."

Duncan finished his last bite of pizza and coughed, mumbling under his breath. "You read something?"

"I read!" Dick wrenched the door open. "Go ahead. Laugh it up now, pizza boy, but you're going to be thanking me later, when you're knee-deep in pussy."

"Knee-deep? Pretty sure that means you're doing it wrong, kid." Logan knocked playfully into his friend as he passed through the doorway entrance, stopping briefly to flash the bouncer his ID.

* * *

As loathe as Logan was to admit, Dick was right. Neptune was pretty great, as far as dance clubs went.

The music was a bearable - an eclectic mix of hip hop from the last few decades - and the women on the dance floor, with their soft-looking hair and their sinful hips, were a welcome break from a ship full of men.

Plus, they hadn't paid for one drink all night. Something about the uniform attracted women in droves. They'd barely had to work for it. That was the one perk of shore leave that Logan would never get tired of.

Still, with only 12 hours left, Logan couldn't help but hope for more.

It was a crazy notion, expecting something monumental to happen to him over the course of only a few hours. But deep down, Logan had the heart of a romantic. Every encounter had the potential to alter the course of his life. He just needed to leave himself open to it. His mother had taught him that.

Unable to stay still any longer, Logan pulled away from an exotic gazelle of a woman, and started to walk away. "Excuse me, please."

"Where are you going?" She asked, hopping up to follow him.

"The little boys room." Logan pointed to the sign over the bathrooms.

She pulled closer to his side and brushed her breasts up against his arm. "Want company?"

The woman was beautiful, but there were lots of beautiful women in the world. New York, in particular.

Once upon a time he might've taken her up on her offer, but the allure of getting his rocks off with a new girl every week held no appeal for him anymore. He'd had his share of easy hookups when he was a teen, but now, he was ready for something more challenging.

"Sorry, Jaime-Lynn. You're absolutely stunning, but this is a solo mission."

Her eyes shot daggers at him as her mouth tightened around the words, "My name is Jazzleeme."

"I'm sorry, I thought you just said 'Jazzleeme'?" He shook his head, certain he'd misheard her.

"Yeah, that's what I said."

"No. God, no." Logan shook his head again and pulled away from her like she'd just caught fire. "I'm sorry - you're very nice - but that's just not a name. I - I have to go."

Noticing the spat, Duncan downed the rest of his vodka tonic and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Want me to go with you?"

Logan bit down on a smirk. "Thanks, Donut, but I'm pretty sure I'm capable of holding my dick on my own."

"Good!" Jazzleeme snapped, "because I sure as hell won't be holding it for you."

She stormed off in a melodramatic huff, the sight of it reducing Dick into a fit of laughter. "What did you do to that girl, man?"

"I didn't think her name was real." Logan waved off the concern with his hand as he edged toward the hallway.

"What the hell difference does it matter what her name is? The only important thing is that she knows your name, so she knows what to scream out later when you're fucking her?"

The woman whom Dick had been chatting up - a dark beauty with ebony skin and a swan-like neck - silently hopped off the stool next to him and ran off as fast as was socially acceptable in public.

"Thanks for that, asshole." Dick downed the rest of his drink and signaled the bartender to bring another round. "That's ten minutes of my life I'll never get back."

Logan laughed to himself as he made his way toward the back of the club.

* * *

He had nearly reached the end of the hallway, when he heard the sounds of a heated argument, nearby.

"She said no, asswipe." A tiny brunette with a fuck-you-up expression on her face, shoved a tall, sloppy-drunk blonde behind her.

"No. You're the one who said no. She hasn't said much of anything." A hedge fund-type, with dark, slicked back hair and a menacing smile, took a brazen step forward and reached for the blonde's wrist.

The brunette slapped his hand away. "That's because she can't. You dosed her."

The Wall Street sleaze took another step forward, boxing the women against a partition. "Sucks you can't prove it, though."

Logan sighed and started back down the hallway to where the ruckus was taking place. He wasn't keen on getting involved in a fight on his day off, but he also wasn't the kind of guy who could walk away from something like this. Not when a woman was being threatened.

Before he could reach the scene though, a tiny, blonde woman had already intervened.

"You're sure about that, Patrick Bateman?" She was smug as hell, like she owned a copy of his house keys and knew exactly where he hid the good silver.

"Pretty sure." The man chuckled darkly and licked his lips. "Then again, I've suddenly lost interest in her. You're feisty. What's your story?"

"My story?" The small woman feigned a girlish giggle. "My story is that I have this _thing_ against rapists."

He pressed a hand to his chest and let out an exaggerated gasp. "I'm a rapist, now?"

"Not anymore, you're not. Listen-" She leaned forward and ripped the name tag off his shirt, presumably left over from an earlier work meeting, "Mercer Hayes? God, even your name is annoying." She rolled her eyes with a groan.

"You're the real deal, aren't you?" His wolffish gaze traveled down the length of her body. "Yeah, I'm going to really enjoy this."

"I sincerely doubt that, Mercer." Something she was holding in her hand emitted a blinding strobe light as she pressed it to his torso.

The man went down like a ton of bricks.

"Veronica! You're going to get us arrested!" The brunette shrieked.

The woman - Veronica - tucked a taser into her shoulder bag, and shot her friend an unimpressed look. "Please, Mac. They'll be pinning a medal on me for getting this predator off the street."

"You know, one of these days you're going to actually kill somebody, Bond, and even your dad won't be able to keep you out of jail, then."

"Maybe," Veronica conceded, then smiled coyly at her friend. "But you wouldn't let the po-po lock me up, would you, Q? You'd just set me up with a new ID, like you did last time."

 _Last time?_ The implications of that sentence should have sent Logan running, but he couldn't bring himself to look away.

Mac sighed and tightened her arm around their drugged friend's waist. "Text me which alley you leave that asshole in, and I'll alert the proper authorities. Now excuse me, while I spend the next hour with my finger down Parker's throat."

Without casting a glance in his direction, Mac crabwalked past Logan to the bathroom.

"Come on, Mac! Don't be pissed!" Veronica blew a stray hair off her forehead and nudged the unconscious man with her foot. "It was still totally worth it," she mumbled, frowning at the mess she'd made.

Logan's jaw dropped open as he stared at her, and for the first time in his life, he couldn't think of a single thing to say. Instead, he just coughed into his hand.

She looked up at the sound and her expression morphed into something vaguely akin to worry. "Hello sailor. My friend had too much to drink and face-planted like a total moron. Do you think you could maybe help me get him up onto his feet?"

If he hadn't seen the whole thing go down with his own two eyes, he wouldn't have suspected a thing. She was a magnificent liar.

"Actually, I know him," Logan said, watching her carefully for any sign of panic. "That's Mercer Hayes, right? We went to school together."

"Shit," she hissed, under her breath. Her throat bobbed hard as she swallowed. "I mean, no shit? He talks about that place all the time."

"Really? Which place?" He slowly approached her and crouched down next to where she was hunched over. "We kind of grew up together, and - I know you'll probably find this shocking - but neither of us were particularly well-behaved. We've both been kicked out of our fair share of schools."

Her eyes scanned his, looking for something specific in them. "You're fucking with me, aren't you?"

"Why would you say that?"

"You have a tell." She reached out and traced the corner of his eye. "Right there. It crinkles a little bit every time you lie."

"How could you tell the difference, though? If I was lying the whole time?"

Her finger traced the area once again. "Not the whole time. There - it just just did it again."

Logan shook his head. "You're remarkable."

"And, you're wasting my time." She glanced at the man on the floor and then back up at Logan. "Why?"

"I thought you might be able to use some muscle to take out the trash? I really did intend to help."

"Why didn't you just say that, then?"

His mouth pulled into a lopsided grin. "You're a little intimidating. Terrifying, frankly. I was also kind of curious how you'd handle being caught."

"I don't get caught. Much." She scrubbed the back of her hand over her forehead and visibly relaxed at his admission. "You saw the whole thing, didn't you? That's how you got the name? You don't really know him."

"No. Thank God."

"Then you were telling the truth about getting kicked out of school?"

He shrugged. "Best lies always incorporate a bit of the truth."

"You are super weird." Her face broke into a grin. "I probably shouldn't even be talking to you anymore, since you're most likely a creeper, but you've got an impressive set of biceps and a helluva lot more upper body strength than I do, so...yeah. Help away, weird guy."

Logan's expression was sheepish. "I'm not a creeper, I promise. I saw what was happening to your friends from across the hall and I was actually about to intervene, but you beat me to it."

She knelt by Mercer's side and glanced up at Logan, expectantly. "Then make it up to me. I could use a side of beef like you, right about now."

"Side of beef? Well, since you asked so nicely." Logan gently edged her out of the way and lifted her would-be assailant, taking care to throw him over his shoulder as harshly as possible. "Where to?"

She took a moment, and then pointed toward the lighted emergency exit sign. "I can think of no more an appropriate place for him than a filthy, back alley dumpster."

"Lead the way." As she stepped in front of him, Logan walked slower than necessary to enjoy the view from behind.

She paused for a moment, having obviously noticed him noticing her, and then bit back a smile. "Hope you don't fly planes as slowly as you move your ass."

* * *

He slammed the top of the dumpster closed and wiped his hands off on the back of his uniform trousers. "He looked peaceful, didn't he?"

She laughed musically as she texted her friend, Mac, the location. "I'm just sad we can't be here to see him when he wakes up. That first moment of panic, when his mind screams 'where the hell am I?', is always the money shot."

"Money shot? You're a classy, classy dame, Veronica. It's Veronica, right?"

Her head pricked up at her name and she squeezed her eyes shut. "Oh God, I'm so rude. Here you are - saving me - and I haven't even asked your name."

"You hardly needed my saving." He extended his hand to her. "I'm Logan Echolls."

Her brow pinched in concentration. "I thought you looked familiar. Echolls...as in Aaron-?"

His stomach dropped. This was usually the point when his night started to get strange and ruinous.

How would he ever know if somebody liked him for him, if they were tainted with the knowledge of his parentage? Plus, being pestered with questions for the rest of the evening about his least favorite person in the world, always put him in a foul mood.

"No," he said, cutting her off. "It's Echolls, as in Logan. And if you're worried about being rude, you probably shouldn't leave me hanging here like a chump." He wiggled his fingers.

"Right." She forcefully took his hand in her surprisingly strong grip, and smiled tightly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Logan Echolls. I'm Veronica Mars."

They shook hands for a few seconds, before his masochist instincts kicked into overdrive. "You can ask me about him, you know. If you want. Most people do."

A guilty look flashed across her face and his hand went instantly limp in hers.

"He's...I'm not..." She stopped and huffed out a breath of air. "I don't want to come off like an asshole, especially after you've been so nice to me, but I'm not really his biggest fan?"

Logan's hand tightened around hers again. "No?"

Veronica shrugged and pursed her lips. "I'm more into comedy than cheesy action movies. And also, you know, the rumors make him sound like a monster, though I realize they're probably just rumors..."

"They're not rumors," he said, still holding her hand. "And he is a monster."

The look in her eyes was closer to empathy than pity, and he decided he could probably live with that. "Your mom seemed nice, though. Really pretty."

"She was. Both of those things."

Veronica finally dropped his hand, leaving it feeling cold, despite the summer heat.

Out of nowhere, a cat landed on the metal top of the dumpster with a loud screech, surprising them both.

Veronica yelped, then pressed a hand to her heart and laughed at her cowardice. "I'm going to assume that squeal sounded as butch to you as it did in my head?"

"Super butch." His gaze followed the cat to the back door of the club, which it began angrily scratching at. "I think we might be locked out."

She bit her bottom lip again and a stray thought had him wondering what it might feel like between his own teeth.

"Oh? Did you want to go back inside?" She didn't sound too enthusiastic about the prospect.

"Not particularly. I only have one day of leave, and I'd rather not spend it getting hit on by vapid, drunk model/actresses, named Jazzleeme."

"Jazzleeme is not a real name. Nice try." She smirked, visibly amused by the idea of it. "Should I be offended that you didn't assume I was a vapid, drunk actress/model?"

God, she was cute. Far more interesting than anybody else he'd met that night. "No, you shouldn't. I wouldn't have followed you out here, if I thought you were."

A flush crept up the side of her neck, and he fought the urge to feel the heat of it against his palm.

"Are there really people named Jazzleeme?"

"Apparently," he said, then gestured to the surrounding barrier. "How are you at climbing fences?"

She knocked her shoulder into his. "Better than I am at mending them."

They walked side-by-side toward the chain link fence that blocked their path to the alley.

"So, why didn't you want to go back inside? You don't like to dance with people?" He wordlessly lifted her from under her arms, depositing her carefully at the top of the fence.

"I like to dance, sure. But people?" She pulled a face, and climbed down the other side, landing solidly on her feet. "Not so much."

Veronica pressed her palm into the metal mesh. "Feels like a jailbreak movie. If you don't make it, I'll bake a file into a cake for you."

He followed her over the fence in two moves and landed next to her. "You don't leave a man behind, Mars."

"I wouldn't. That's not how I roll." She reached out and straightened his collar where it had been pulled askew, then slowly smoothed down the edges with her hands.

He froze under her intense gaze."No?"

"No. Plus, I wouldn't want to send you back to your S.O. in tatters," she whispered, without looking up.

"Do you - do you need me to walk you home?" He prayed hard that she'd say no.

Veronica adjusted the strap on her bag and shook her head. "I'm a civic-minded person, Logan. Not taking you out for a drink to thank you would be straight-up unpatriotic, would it not?"

"It certainly would. And you do look like an exemplary American." He offered her his elbow, which she took immediately.

* * *

"I told them I was serving my country." Veronica took the last sip of her third gin and tonic, and laughed. "They thought it was some kind of code. Like I'd been kidnapped. Like the idea that I might willingly socialize with a person who was not them was so far-fetched it must be code."

"Is it? Far-fetched, I mean?" Logan signaled to the bartender to bring their bill.

She pretended to grumble, then scooted a few inches down the booth to lightly flick his earlobe. "Are you judging me for my lack of social skills, guy-who-organized-bum-fights while in high school?"

"It wasn't my proudest moment." He took a moment to inhale the scent of her skin, now that she'd moved closer. "And, I'm more of a spirit-of-the-law kind of guy."

She shot him a blank look. "That uniform suggests otherwise... _flyboy_."

Something about the way she she'd said it made the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention.

"Anyway, I'm an acquired taste," she said, a few shades softer than her usual, confident tone. "I wasn't always."

"Not to me. You're...not like anybody I've ever met, Veronica. And I've met a fuckton of people, of all walks of life. I liked you immediately."

"Well, you're a creeper, so I'm not sure your opinion counts," she sounded more earnest than she had the entire time he'd spent with her.

Taking a chance, Logan covered her hand with his own and held his breath. "Of course it counts. I'd personally be a little worried if somebody boring took a shine to me. What does that say about who I am? That I would attract people like that?"

She turned her hand over and threaded their fingers together. Success.

"Logan Echolls, you're a snob."

"Take it as a compliment, Veronica Mars." He squeezed her fingers between his. "Knowing somebody like you enjoys my company, means I'm infinitely more interesting than I previously thought I was."

Veronica squeezed his hand back, and then turned her face away from his. "I will take it as a compliment."

Despite Veronica's insistence, Logan wouldn't let her pay the bill when it finally arrived.

He slipped his credit card into the pleather billfold and handed it directly to the waiter before she could stop him.

"That's a dirty trick." Her mouth turned down into a frown as she leaned more heavily against him in the booth. "I'm supposed to be treating you."

Her small frame was now molded to his side, and it felt like a slice of heaven. "I'm a gentleman, Veronica. You can't just expect me to stop, cold turkey."

She turned her head to look at him, her hair tickling the side of his neck along the way. "You don't have to be a _total_ gentleman, you know."

Her large, blue eyes blinked up at him, and it was at that specific moment, he knew he was doomed.

This wasn't just any girl, he'd met tonight.

This was _the_ girl.

The knowledge of vibrated through him, like a struck bell.

Logan cleared his throat. "What are you saying?"

"You can read ultrasonic flight odometers, but you don't know how to read this situation?" She gestured to the small bit of space that remained between them.

"Ultrasonic flight od- that's not a real thing." Despite his firm resolve not to take advantage of girl who'd been drinking, he couldn't help but imagine what her lips would taste like.

Still. STILL. As much as he wanted it, he didn't want it like this.

"And, I can read this situation fine, but like I said before. I'm a gentleman." His lips feathered against the shell of her ear, whispering, "And you're drunk."

He felt her shudder against his arm.

"Little bit." She lifted her free hand, holding her index finger and thumb a few inches apart. "But I don't mind, if you don't."

He twisted a lock of her flaxen hair around his fingers and sighed. "A few years ago, I would've taken you up on the offer in a hot minute. But, I've grown up a lot since then."

Veronica mimicked his sigh, then leaned her head on the edge of his shoulder. "Why'd you have to go and do something stupid like that?"

"Bum fights? Lighting public pools on fire? You forget I was an absolute menace." His fingers dug deeper into her hair and she hummed at the pleasure of his touch. "You wouldn't have wanted to kiss me back then. Trust me."

"I do trust you," she said very seriously, before unconsciously licking her lips. "But I'm not so sure about that. Bad boys hold a special appeal, you know."

The only thing crueler than meeting the woman of his dreams the day before he was supposed to ship out, was meeting the woman of his dreams the day before he was supposed to ship out - and not even being able to touch her.

If he wasn't sure of it before, he was positive now that the universe was punishing him for all of the terrible shit he did when he was a kid. It had written him off.

She pushed up onto her knees, bringing herself to eye-level with him. Their faces were now close enough to breathe the same air.

Her body swayed towards his, but before she could close the distance, his hands caught the sides of her face. "Maybe we should get some food in you?"

She blushed furiously and looked away. "That's probably a good idea."

"Any preference?" His thumb stroked over the velvet skin of her cheekbone and her eyes lit up at the encouragement.

She pouted her lips. "I wouldn't say no to falafel."

"Falafel?"

"It's chickpeas fried in oil. There's literally nothing to hate about that."

"No, I know what falafel is, Veronica. And, I like it. I just can't even remember the last time I had it." He could. He'd had lunch with his mother at an Israeli place the day before she'd died. "But, yeah. Let's do that."

Closing her eyes, she turned her head left and leaned slightly into his hand. "I know a place, a taxi driver haunt on the lower east. It's open all night."

"It just so happens I have all night." Logan impulsively pressed his lips to her forehead, and when he finally pulled back, she was smiling.

"Why'd you do that?"

"You know why." His mouth tightened into a line to avoid saying anything else.

* * *

Logan let Veronica pay this time, and they walked together in comfortable silence as they ate their food.

"Do your friends know where you are?" She asked, through a large bite of falafel.

"We're guys, Veronica. I just texted them that I met a girl." He lifted the open bottle of water out of her free hand and took a large swig, then held it to her lips, forcing her to have a sip. "You need to drink."

She side-eyed him for a moment, but then complied.

"By the way," he said, as he tipped more water into her mouth. "I meant to ask - back at the club - how did you know I was a pilot?"

Veronica swallowed the rest of the bottle. "Slight raccoon eyes from goggles." With a crumpled paper wrapper in her hand, she mimed the look around her eyes. "Tan lines on your hands. Regular Navy guys don't wear gloves when they swab the poop deck, do they?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "The poop deck? That's everything you know about the Navy, isn't it?"

"I've seen 'A Few Good Men'. And 'Top Gun', like, five times." She balled up the wrapper more and tossed it in the nearest waste basket, followed by the empty water bottle. "I think that makes me an expert in some circles, yes?"

"That, or just a really huge Tom Cruise fan."

"Yuck." Her nose wrinkled, adorably. "I do love Jack Nicholson though. And Tom Skerritt."

"Daddy complex, much?" He finished off the last of his own sandwich.

She snorted a laugh, then grabbed his empty wrapper from his hands and threw it on top of hers in the bin. "My dad would be super disturbed to hear you say that. So, you know, make you sure you definitely do, when you meet him."

 _When_? He wasn't sure if it was just something to say, or if she'd meant it the way he'd hoped.

"Hey," Veronica latched onto his elbow and pulled him to an abrupt stop. "Wanna see something cool?"

"Always."

She turned him by the hips toward a nondescript, vine-covered, gate door, stepped in front of him for a minute, and then ushered him through.

* * *

Inside, was a small public garden, bursting with the scent of blooming roses, with splashes of color so bright they almost glowed in the dark.

"Did you just pick that lock?" His mouth quirked in amusement.

"No?" She pushed him along the narrow path, only stopping briefly, allowing him to smell a white rose.

"This is amazing. How do you know about this place?"

She pointed to a trellis, lined with hot pink, climbing roses. "I took a picture of a guy humping his secretary against that thing. It's sturdier than it looks." She winked at him, suggestively, and skipped to the other side of the path.

"Nice to see that romance isn't dead." Logan stopped short and nearly melted from the heat of her stare. "Ms. Mars, are you trying to seduce me?"

She laughed, and started walking slowly toward him, an exaggerated prowl. "Logan, I'm not trying to seduce you."

A smirk pricked at his lips. "I know that. But please, Ms. Mars, this is difficult..."

The toes of her flats brushed up against his shiny black shoes. "Would you like me to seduce you?"

He feigned confusion. "What?"

She pulled him down by his tie. "Is that what you're trying to tell me?" Her eyes were clear and bright, no remnants of her earlier inebriation left.

Logan's mouth went dry at the determined look in her eyes.

Her breath caressed his cheek and he trembled at her nearness. "Are we - are we still doing the bit, or-?"

They both smiled, like they shared a naughty secret. The air between them charged with possibilities.

"No. No more 'Graduate' quotes for us tonight." She shook her head. "And, I'm not drunk anymore, Logan. I th-"

He cut her off with a rough, insistent kiss.

She gasped into his mouth, her fingers still pulling hard at his tie. "God, I've been thinking about doing this since you first cracked that lame joke about taking out the trash."

"Mmm?" He kissed his way down the side of her neck, and the low, guttural noise she made when he reached the hollow of her throat went straight to his pants. "I've been thinking about doing this since I first saw you tase that scumbag."

Her hands slid down to his ass and squeezed. "When you bent over to pick that bastard up..."

His hands answered the action. "When you bent over as you climbed that fence..."

"When you told me that knowing me made you feel more interesting." Veronica grabbed his face firmly between her hands, and tipped his chin up to look in his eyes. "I've never - never met anyone like you, either, Logan," she said, through ragged panting. "I actually never thought I would."

"Look," Logan expelled a harsh breath and steeled himself for the inevitable rejection. "I know we've only known each other a few hours - and it's really presumptuous to even think about asking this - but I'm being discharged in four months, and you pro-"

"I'll wait for you," she said, eyes blazing with excitement. "I'll wait."

He wasn't sure if he was more bewildered or elated by what she'd just promised. Either way, he should probably keep his mouth shut and count his blessings.

Logan was smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. "Are you sure about this?"

"I want to." Veronica moved in closer, her breasts pressing against his chest with every shallow breath. She stared at him unashamed, studying his face like it was a college level algebra problem. "I mean, we could end up hating each other once you get back - and even if we don't, I work weird hours, I'm occasionally pedantic, and it's possible I'll ruin everything anyway by not being as emotionally accessible as you need me to be - but, you know, what if we _don't_ hate each other?"

Logan didn't hear anything past the words 'I'll wait'.

Maybe the universe wasn't done with him after all?

His fingers grazed the side of her cheek. "We might not hate each other."

She nodded ardently, her eyes brimming with unshed, happy tears. "We might not. And how cool would that be?"

He answered her with a slow, sensual kiss and then smiled against her lips. "Very. Very. Cool." He punctuated each word with a soft peck, then melted into her again.

They broke their kiss, but stayed near, foreheads still touching.

"Are we crazy?" She whispered, as if any loud noise could break the spell they were under.

"Yes." His brow rubbed against hers with a nod. "But, I wouldn't have it any other way."

* * *

With the taste of her still on his lips, Logan forced himself to climb the gangplank. But only two steps in, and he couldn't drag himself any farther.

He caught the eye of his admiral, who gave him a knowing look and fondly shook his head. "This is why we don't do shore leave very often. We drop off a bunch of soldiers, and get back a bunch of lovesick fools."

Logan turned to get a last look at Veronica, and noticed her two friends beside her.

On her left, Duncan was whispering soothingly to Parker, who was reduced to a blubbering mess in his arms.

On her right, Dick had Mac pinned against a telephone pole, his hand halfway up her skirt as he kissed her deeply.

Veronica glanced once in either direction and shrugged. "Mac said a medic offered to help with Parker."

Logan's head dropped back with the realization. "Duncan is a medic."

Veronica laughed at the absurd scene. "I feel a little responsible for this."

Her blonde hair caught the morning light in just the right way, and Logan could've sworn she was glowing from within.

Something overtook him, and he ran back down the gangplank, a groan from his supervision officer trailing after him.

"Five minutes, men!" The man barked at nobody in particular.

Logan leapt off the bridge and swept Veronica up into his arms again. "I just had to make sure you were real. That this was real."

She smiled at him indulgently. "You bet your uppity white shirt it is."

He kissed her hard and long, their hands clawing at each other's backs until the warning horn sounded and their bodies stiffened at the noise. "Four months."

"Four months," she repeated, breathlessly. "That's no time at all."

"No," he said, still refusing to loosen his grip on her waist. "But, it's going to feel like forever."

"At least you won't be suffering alone." She gestured with her chin toward their friends, who were also saying their last goodbyes. "Now get on that boat before I lose all my resolve and drag you back to Brooklyn with me for good."

Logan took a deep breath and pressed one last kiss to her lips. "Just promise me you won't get arrested before I come back."

"I can promise I'll _try_?" She slapped his ass playfully. "Now go, before they toss you in the brig."

Logan boarded the ship just as the horn blared its last warning.

He rushed to the edge of the deck and leaned over the railing to get one last look at Veronica, to memorize her features, her smile.

Dick and Duncan were already there.

"She can literally erase people's identities," Dick said, waving at Mac. "That is so badass."

"Parker is so nice she makes me look like an asshole," Duncan revealed, as he blew the woman in question a kiss. "What about Veronica? What's she like?"

Logan's expression glazed over at the thought of her. "Well...she's really good with a taser, is absolutely frightening to have a battle of wits with, can pick any lock, knows the best places to dump an unconscious body and I'm pretty sure she's capable of killing and disappearing all three of us if we cross her the wrong way."

Both men turned to look at him, shock written across their faces.

"That's cool." Dick shrugged and lightly punched Logan in the shoulder. "She's also really hot, so good job with that, bro."

Duncan's concerned expression quickly faded. "She actually sounds perfect for you, man."

"Doesn't she, though?" Logan smiled at Veronica, who was watching him from the pier as the boat finally pushed off.

As the ship started to drift, he pressed his hand to his heart and she echoed the gesture.

He'd gone more than 25 years without her. What was four more months?

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! If you have the time, please stop by the comments section and let me know what you think about it :)**


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